Story of an Hour
by amariewest
Summary: Written for an English class exercise in 2005 concerning Kate Chopin's Story of an Hour. The original was written from Louise's frame of reference. The exercise was to write from another character's point of view.


Richards came by to share the devastating news. I heard the knock on the door shortly before the turn of the hour and I tried to stay strong, if not just for Louise's sake. When he spoke to me, it was as if I was hearing nothing and everything at the same time. He enveloped me with comfort and love as I stood speechless near the stairs. Brently, my brother-in-law, who had insisted I stay this stormy weekend to keep my sister company while he was away, was at the very top of the list that Richards rushed to the house from the newspaper office. The train accident occurred only two hours previous, and due to her heart trouble, we knew we had to break the news of her husband's death to Louise as gently as possible.

"Louise." As I entered the room, I spoke her name quietly to receive her attention, but I knew I would have much difficulty repeating what had been told to me. "Louise, I--. Brently, he--. Louise, oh, my dear sister, I am so sorry. There's been an accident--. With the train--. Brently. We--." A moment of realization passed across Louise's expression, and she was instantly in my arms. She wept intensely, letting herself go completely for what seemed to me an eternity. Richards quietly and concernedly told her the details he knew and how he had found out. He was very sorry, and hardly contented with what he had to say to her.

Her cheeks were still wet and her hair still frizzled as she pulled away after the flow ceased; I tried to follow her to her room up the stairs, but she would not allow it. Richards nodded to me as if to say, maybe it's best, as he left towards the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. I passed down the hallway and leaned stiffly into the window frame and became distracted by a distant, beautiful ballad that seemed to lament the passing.

I thought of what she must be going through; unmarried, I knew I couldn't imagine it fully. I remembered the first day they were allowed on the porch, supervised of course. That evening, Louise brought me into her bedroom and shared with me every detail she could recall: The way his eyes looked in the sunset, how his hand accidentally caressed her left arm. He brought her a gorgeous assortment of white garden daisies and I danced around the room with her. When he returned again, it was all she could do to contain her fluster. In those days, it was easier for her to openly shine in his presence.

The wedding was beautiful, and Louise even more so. As I stood, looking outside into the patchy rain clouds, I thought of her stunning long white gown and how joyful her expression was. The ceremony included decorative red and pink roses that mimicked her natural blushing cheeks. I recalled she still kept a bouquet somewhere in the house; it used to be on display next to the window I was near, though I suppose they must have placed it somewhere more hidden once some of the petals turned to dust.

Richards returned respectfully and offered me a cup of tea. I smiled in gratitude and acknowledged his lost, mournful gaze toward the single photograph of Louise and Brently together. The glass frame was cracked and covered with fragments of dust and dirt. Louise's eyes stared blankly back at me as I cleared the tarnish away from her face. Richards unconventionally squeezed my shoulder in comfort, and went back into the kitchen to leave me to my thoughts. I was still holding the picture frame and thinking of the day Brently gave Louise the engagement ring. He had written forever in stones across the band. Her romantic mind was captured by this gesture, and with permission, they proceeded through their three-month betrothal almost dancing in the clovers.

Before Brently left on this trip he entrusted her care into my hands. Her heart had been giving her difficulties only of late, however I had not been able to see her until this weekend came. I was looking to visit my sister Louise, full of budding life and joy, but I came to find a woman who seemed to have aged before her time. She was not rude; however she kept mostly to herself and seemed irritated if I gave way to any constant chattering. I wanted to tell her about our parents and a gentleman they allowed me to see recently, but she hardly looked at me when I spoke. I wondered if Brently had taken my Louise with him.

I made a steady ascent to her bedroom, trusting Richards with the floor below. I tried to think of all the thoughts Louise might have been having during this slow time. Anticipating she might be covered with sorrow, I quietly knocked. There was no answer, so I gently said her name. "Louise! Louise, you must come out." Without response once again, I kneeled in front of the door and leaned my head against the knob. "Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door -- you will make yourself ill." I could not hear any sobs or cries. "What are you doing, Louise? For heaven's sake open the door."

"Go away," she responded finally. "I am not making myself ill." I felt the pain in her voice through the uncertainty that I heard. I had to get her to go downstairs for a bit of tea; it might have soothed her anguish. I heard Richards walk heavily into the front room. I stood and gestured to his inquiring glance that I might get Louise out of her room. He stood by the stairs and waited.

Then I heard the characteristic creak in the wood of her room. I knew she was walking, though I did not know to what end. I was relieved to see the doorknob slowly turn and view my sister's familiar face. I was almost positive that, for the few minutes she walked triumphantly with her arms around my waist, she blossomed into her old self again. She must have been thinking the same thoughts I was about better times and all the wonderful fantasies with Brently that came true for her. We began descending the stairs. When we reached the platform, Richards looked quite frantic and I cried in utter amazement as Brently, complete with his grip-sack and umbrella, strode awkwardly into the house. In my surprise, I let go of Louise's back and heard a faint, indecipherable whisper from her lips as she fell silently into oblivion.

Panic-stricken, Brently bolted to her side and waved a fan in front of her face. He was covered in water and unmerciful to Louise's garments. Richards sped out of the driveway without explanation. Louise lived close enough to a clinic that a doctor and nurse were there within ten minutes. I had to contain Brently from shaking my sister to life when they arrived, and I had to watch his expression go numb when the doctor told us she had died of a joy that kills.


End file.
